


in the worst winters the whole thing feels untenable

by procrastinatingbookworm



Series: Hello, I'm good for nothing - will you love me just the same? [22]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Communication, Dissociation, Gen, M/M, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Resolved Argument, Suicidal Thoughts, Talking, and also history happened for a bit there, holly is also there but they don't do anything in this one, sorry i haven't posted in two weeks, this really didn't want to be written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28699332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinatingbookworm/pseuds/procrastinatingbookworm
Summary: Quirrel and Hornet have a necessary conversation. Tiso struggles under the weight of memory.
Relationships: Hornet & Quirrel (Hollow Knight), Hornet & Tiso (Hollow Knight), Quirrel/Tiso (Hollow Knight)
Series: Hello, I'm good for nothing - will you love me just the same? [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957039
Comments: 12
Kudos: 43





	in the worst winters the whole thing feels untenable

**Author's Note:**

> The two fics preceding this were very heavy, so I'm going to summarize them in the notes here, though I recommend you read #20 for context on this one.
> 
> #20: On the journey to Sheo and the Nailsmith's house, Quirrel decides to sit down and rest while Hornet and Ghost go on ahead. He senses something calling to him, and follows it, leaving his nail behind. The call is actually Grimm, trying to reach out to Unn for help with Radi's recovery, given that Grimm's health is on the rocks. Embarrassed to have eavesdropped, Quirrel returns to where he was, and finds Hornet and Ghost (accompanied by Sheo and the Nailsmith) grappling with the possibility that Quirrel took a dip in the acid. The walk home is awkward. They need therapy.
> 
> #21: Holly is bitter about their childhood without recognizing that they were mistreated by TPK, and even more bitter about not getting to pay Radi back for the suffering they endured during their bodysharing experience by shoving their fingers down her throat. Given their upbringing, it shouldn't be too surprising that they never learned "two wrongs don't make a right". Kid needs therapy.
> 
> Therapy will commence shortly, but I made them handle the consequences of their actions first.

The silence in the too-small house burns like acid, and Tiso is ready to crack someone’s shell to make it stop.

He’s been trying for almost half an hour to ignore the blooming discomfort that Quirrel and Hornet brought home, instead of anything useful for nesting, and his patience is running thin.

It’s bad enough that they won’t say anything. It’s worse that Ghost didn’t come home with them.

When Tiso heard their voices and went out to meet them, he found Quirrel and Hornet refusing to look at each other, and two strange bugs, both tall and broad, carapaces worn with age and violence, two  _ strangers _ near the nest, and no sign of Ghost.

They still won’t tell him what happened. The strange bugs are outside, making quiet conversation that Tiso can’t quite hear but can still register, and it’s enough to set his nerves on edge.

His carapace prickles all over.

They’re all in different corners of the house. Holly in their nest and Hornet in hers, Tiso with his weaving starting to pool around him—one spool of spider’s silk lasts a long time, but he’s starting to run out.

Quirrel in the opposite corner, polishing his nail. Dead-eyed.

“Is Ghost all right, at least?” Tiso hears himself say. He stares at his weaving. His fingers are shaking.

“They’re fine,” Hornet says, tersely. “They doubled back to find things to nest with, since we forgot on the first trip.”

Somehow, breaking the silence made it  _ worse. _

Tiso tries again.

“Who are the strangers?”

“Friends of Ghost’s. Apparently they think they can help us.” Hornet pauses. “Ghost thinks those two will be able to help us.”

“Help us how?” Tiso prompts. 

“Tiso,” Hornet says, cold and sharp as a nail. “Stop trying.”

Tiso feels ill. Ill down to his core, in a way he doesn’t know how to cope with, a way that makes him want to rip his wounded arm off at the joint, or tear the hairs from his antennae, or give up on finishing the scarf for Holly and find some acid to walk into.

_ (It was just after harvest, their stomachs were full. They shouldn’t have been so quick to anger.) _

“Hornet,” Quirrel says, admonishingly.

Everyone in the room startles at the sound of his voice. It’s almost funny. Almost.

“This is your fault,” Hornet says, sitting up sharply in her nest.

“I never said it wasn’t,” Quirrel replies, too quietly.

Tiso bites the joint of his thumb. 

_ (He remembers how it happened, he can’t not remember—weapons, lit torches, arguments that could’ve been, should’ve been avoided.) _

“Was it spite?” Hornet asks. “I told you—I told you over and over that you didn’t  _ have _ to come, we didn’t make you do anything, you just  _ decided _ to haul yourself along with us—”

“I heard something,” Quirrel says, then sighs. Frustrated, tired. Rough on the edges, like his voice might crack. “I heard something calling to me, the way my Madame called me back to Hallownest. It felt very… very vital that I listen to its call.”

“So vital that you forgot your nail?” Hornet snaps.

Quirrel flinches.

Tiso feels his stomach drop.

( _ It shouldn’t have happened, someone should have stopped it, someone should’ve said—)  _

“I’m sorry,” Quirrel says, flatly. “That’s all I can tell you, I’m sorry. I can’t change what I did, I can’t… un-hurt you, or Ghost, or Tiso.”

Tiso curls his mandibles against the instinct to put his head down and start burrowing. He knots his fingers into his sling and pulls until the pain is loud enough to drown out the panic.

_ (It all burned. It all burned. It all burned.) _

“We’ve all made our choices,” Quirrel goes on. “The only option we have is to live with them.”

The silence hangs ugly in the air.

_ (It all burned.) _

“I’m sorry,” Quirrel repeats, unsteadily. “Hornet, I’m sorry.”

Hornet tilts her head. She examines him for a long moment, like she isn’t sure what to think.

“All right,” she says, eventually. “But you’re not leaving this house until I’m sure I can actually trust you.”

Quirrel laughs thinly. “I think I can live with that.”

Hornet’s hands tighten on her needle. “You’d better, understand? You’d better.”

Tiso holds his breath, his hand knotted in the fabric of his sling, until Quirrel nods, and puts his nail down. Until Hornet lies back in her nest.

He breathes, deep and slow. He can still smell the smoke.


End file.
